


Interrogation

by Mrs_Arcadian



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Interrogation, Mind Control, The Darkside, The Force, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 04:20:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9218645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Arcadian/pseuds/Mrs_Arcadian
Summary: Rey will show Poe Dameron the darkside.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cora Riley](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cora+Riley).



> I got this idea from a post on Tumblr and it wouldn't leave me alone!
> 
> Thank you to CoraRiley for encouraging me to write this one-shot!

“I had no idea we had the best pilot in the Resistance on board.”

Poe Dameron opened his swollen eyes and slowly raised his head in the dimly lit interrogation chamber to indentify the source of the voice. A masked figure clothed in black slowly made its way to the interrogation table where Poe was held captive.

“Comfortable?” The robed figure asked sardonically.

“Not really,” Poe answered, doing his best to maintain his bravado. The robed figure stopped just in front of him, and from what Poe could tell, his captor appeared to be a woman; the filter in her mask did an excellent job of concealing her feminine voice. The form fitting robes, on the other hand, did nothing to hide her figure.

“After what my protocol and interrogation droids put you through yesterday, I’m surprised that your heart is still beating,” the unmoving figure in black said. “Not many men survive the first twenty minutes.”

Poe decided silence was the best option and focused his attention on glossy black ceiling above him. He had heard about the masked woman in black from encrypted reports sent back from Resistance spies who never returned from their mission; the words ‘quicker, easier, more seductive,’ came to mind.

He counted himself lucky that he always had been able to avoid being a prisoner of the First Order. Now, he wouldn’t be returning home.

“I’m impressed,” the woman droned, as she slowly circled around the table, her lithe body like a predator stalking its prey, “No one has been able to get out of you, what you did with the map.”

“You might want to rethink your technique,” Poe answered dismissively.

The woman stopped where she was standing, just above Poe’s head, and moved so that her masked face was just above his. She placed her black leather clad hands on either side his head, her fingertips at his temples.

Poe blinked up at the masked face and only realized too late what was happening. Pressure, slowly building, and building until his ears rang, ripped through his already bruised and battered head. He tried to remain calm, tried to focus on the glossy black ceiling, tried to recall his last debriefing and the last sexually intimate encounter he had. Nothing could keep the invisible tendrils that probed his mind at bay.

“Where is it?” the woman asked, her voice tinged with impatience.

Poe could feel the sweat coming from every pore in his body, his heartbeat echoed in his mind, driving him close to insanity.

“The Resistance, will not be intimidated by you,” he managed to choke out through clenched teeth.

“Where. Is. It?!” The masked woman ground out through the filter concealing her voice, her fingertips now digging into the sides of his head.

“Where is it?!”

And then, just when Poe thought his heart would stop and merciful Death would pull him into her arms, he felt a million tiny blades cut through his mind and his body. His back arched off the table, causing him to pull at his tightly bound hands and feet. He howled in agony, his pain wracked body writhing on the unforgiving surface of the interrogation table.

“WHERE IS THE MAP!?” The robed figure demanded, her chest heaving, her anger seething.

Poe let out one final scream before his body went still and his world faded into nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

Warm, welcoming arms surrounded him, holding him in a tender embrace. Gentle hands caressed his face. Delicate fingers combed through his dark hair. Soft lips brushed against his. 

_You can rest now, Poe Dameron._

Poe opened his tired eyes and wearily looked around. The room had changed from earlier, or he had been moved, though the dim lighting stayed the same. The table he had been secured to during his interrogation had been replaced with a wall. Poe blinked, willing his mind to catch up. He had no idea how long he had been asleep, which was anything but restful; the effects of the mind probe achingly lingered. He shook his head slightly, hoping to clear some of the fog that blurred his vision and flexed his arms. 

He was still restrained, he discovered, his arms held above his head with his wrists in chains that hung down from the glossy ceiling. His legs were splayed open with his ankles shackled to the floor. 

“Well, that’s kriffing perfect,” Poe murmured. He looked down to see that he was still wearing his pilot fatigues and his shirt, but his flight jacket had been confiscated, along with his transponder and the lullaby pill neatly concealed behind it. Of course, the First Order couldn’t just let him die, why would they if they wanted to use him as a bargaining chip? Though, he wasn’t convinced his life was worth that much to the Resistance, Poe sighed and rested the back of his head against the wall, trying to make sense of why he was still alive. 

The memory of hands touching his face played through his mind, then sound of a door sliding open brought his attention to the present. A girl, a medic most likely, Poe judged by the kit she clutched in her hands, walked in with her head down, her gaze focused on the dark floor. She stopped to kneel in front of him and took out several bacta patches, a cleansing cloth and a bottle that contained an aqueous liquid. 

The girl, Poe noted, had long chestnut colored hair that was fixed in a single braid, honey colored skin, from what he could see of her face and hands, and wore a simple and modest black dress that covered her from just under her chin to her ankles. The bright red insignia of the First Order was emblazoned over her right breast, and a bracelet, possibly a comlink, was around her left wrist. 

She reminded him of an angel, not unlike the mythical beings he heard the other Resistance pilots speak of, and she had the saddest eyes he had ever seen. The girl remained silent as she started to clean his face with the cloth and stinging liquid she poured on the square piece of material. 

“Who are you, gorgeous?” Poe asked, flinching as she gently wiped his forehead. The girl merely looked at him with her sad hazel eyes and said nothing. “The First Order must have a strict ‘No Fraternizing’ policy, huh?” he continued with a chuckle and winced. His shoulders were aching and he tried to move them the best he could despite the limited range of motion the chains had to offer. The girl must have noticed his discomfort because immediately placed her small hands on his raised arms and pressed in with her fingertips on several focal points, giving Poe some relief from the ache in his muscles. 

“Thank you, gorgeous,” Poe said quietly, sending a wink to the girl. She blushed and lowered her head slightly, resuming her work on cleaning his wounds. She was applying a bacta patch to his forehead and neck when a red light flickered on her wristband. The girl gave Poe a small smile, quickly packed up her medical kit and quietly left the dark room, leaving him alone with nothing but silence as his companion.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> *MUAH!*


End file.
